small black-eyed children toddled
forward, and stood staring, with their fingers in their mouths.

'Trust, Laddie!' said Allan; for two mongrel curs had rushed out and
barked, whereupon Laddie had stiffened his back and was growling
defiance.

Laddie was obliged to content himself with glaring at the other dogs
and making a few remarks to express his contempt for gipsy dogs, and
his view of their impertinence in presuming to look at his young ladies
and gentlemen.

'Tell your fortune, pretty lady,' said a woman to Marjorie, with a
smile which displayed her white teeth; but Marjorie shook her head.

'You are leaving Inchkerra?' said Allan to one of the men.

'Yes, sir. We start for Ireland to-morrow, in a sailing boat.'

'You haven't stayed very long,' observed Marjorie.

'Three months, lady. A long time for the gipsies.'

'Will you ever come back again?' inquired Marjorie.

The man shook his head.

'Can't say, lady. Maybe yes, maybe no. We never can tell. Thanks,
master; good luck to you,' he said, touching his straggling forelock as
Allan slipped a few coins into his hand.

'Good-bye, masters; good-bye, pretty ladies,' cried the gipsies in
farewell.

Some distance from the hollow, a tall, loosely-made youth rose
unexpectedly from where he had been basking in the sun, by the side of
a dyke which screened him from the cold wind.

In the weak, handsome face and roving eyes the young people recognised
Gibbie, the half-witted gipsy lad. An expression of disappointment
crossed his face as he looked over the group and seemed to miss some
one.

'Neil no with you,' he murmured. 'Want to see Neil. Was not at home.'

'Can we give him any message from you?' inquired Allan.

'Tell Neil, Gibbie go away. Long way; want to see Neil to say
good-bye.'

'Very well,' said Allan. 'When we see him, we'll tell him.'

A crafty smile flitted over the lad's face, and he lowered his voice to
a mysterious whisper.

'Neil will be pleased soon,' he said. 'Good Neil, good Neil. Neil
will be very rich, richer than the Gorjos; has a piece of paper worth
hundreds of pounds. Tell him to look for it. Gibbie go long way off.'

'Poor fellow,' observed Allan to Hamish, as the gipsy returned to his
lazy basking on the heather; 'he is quite crazy; can't speak
connectedly for two minutes at a time.'

'There is one good point in Gibbie's character,' said Hamish; 'he knows
that Neil saved his life, and he is grateful. I